‘Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses…’

Engraved on a bronze plaque, mounted inside the lower level of the Statue of Liberty pedestal are the following immortal words, by Emma Lazarus:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

It is because of this gracious and noble lady and the immortal words engraved below her that I and my entire family can now call this great nation “home” – a nation I have proudly served.

And, Mr. Stephen Miller, your intemperate words cannot and will not separate those sacred words from the Statue. They will not dim the flame of Her torch nor diminish the power of those words, for they represent true, lasting American values.